


Faction Before Blood

by ebres



Series: Faction Before Blood-Divergent Peter AU [1]
Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Divergent Peter, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebres/pseuds/ebres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Candor, Erudite, Dauntless. Divergent. One choice to decide whether he lived or died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> If you prefer, you can read this on ff.net, under the same title.

Chapter One

               Before today Peter had never given any thought to transferring factions.

               Candor was home, it was familiar and easy and everything he had ever known. He knew exactly how it worked, that he could say whatever he wanted, whatever he felt, and know that it was everything he was _supposed_ to do. He knew how to rise in the ranks of initiation, knew how to tell a lie from a truth, knew how suppress his own tells. A lawyer, in control, powerful, the only job he'd ever thought about wanting. Sure, he wasn't the most honest person, that's true, but everyone had to work on something right? Tomorrow was the choosing ceremony and he would be choosing Candor. He was a Candor, would be.

               The aptitude test turned out to be an entirely different matter.

               He was sitting between Molly and Drew, a deck of cards in front them as they waited for their names to be called for the test. The nerves had hit him that morning, at breakfast. His sister Verena had joined them for the meal, to see him before the test, and rattled off, with her typical almost Erudite precision, the number of people who transferred each year and how it affected their families and asked him if he was scared to end up like that.

               "No," he had said it with his wine cup halfway to his lips, as if he could hide the lie behind the fired white clay. Around his schoolmates? Probably. But never his parents.

               "Peter." His mother's voice had been harsh and sharp, a sound he was more than a little familiar with. "Would you like to answer the question again?"

               They didn't get mad at his sister for laughing, it was the truthful response to a sibling being punished, just like they wouldn't get mad at him if he owned up to the now painful nervous twist in his stomach.

               "No, I am not scared of being a faction transfer. Whatever the test says, it doesn't matter to me. Tomorrow I'm choosing Candor." A raised eyebrow from his mother, an expectant look from his father; making promises about the future was discouraged, you never knew what could intervene and change that promise to a lie. "I plan to choose Candor tomorrow."

               "Good, I'd miss you if you weren't around anymore, even if you're a jerk sometimes and lie even though you're not supposed to."

               Liar, the name he'd been branded at school, the one he'd managed to keep hidden from his parents, the name that was on his peer's lips the moment they would look at him. Yeah, okay, maybe he did lie more than he should, maybe he should have been working on that before now, but too much for the test to put him in the faction he so desperately wanted?

               He had been the one to suggest the card game; something to take his mind off the test and something to do with his hands to stop them from shaking.

               "From Candor: Albert Madsen and Peter Hayes." He looked up at the sound of his name, throwing down his winning hand, much to Molly and Drew's disappointment, before he rose and joined the line for the next test.

               Don't shake, don't stumble, don't show how you're feeling.

               He didn't quite manage it but at least he was in better shape than Al standing beside him, the boy was turning green and Peter suspected that he was a few moments away from throwing up all over himself. Sucks to be his tester.

               Peter's own tester turned out be to a middle aged woman in a long sleeved grey dress, Abnegation just like he knew she would be. They tested everyone but their own faction, selfless and impartial to the results.

               It was probably a good thing that they never asked a Candor to oversee testing; there was no way they could keep someone's results a secret.

               He was paused in the doorway, studying her. Stalling. Taking in the sleek neat bun at the nape of her neck, the careful organization of her workspace, and the soft smile that pulled her lips when she turned to face him.

               "My name is Natalie Prior; I'll be administering your aptitude test this afternoon. Please, sit and we can get started."

               Her hand on his elbow was gentle but firm, leading him towards the reclining chair in the centre of the mirrored room. Stall, stall, stall. Ask her something, do _something_. His knee hit the side of the chair and he nearly stumbled. The hand on his elbow went to his back instead, steadying him.

               "It's alright, it's not going to hurt." The chair was padded against his back and his hands clenched the arms harder than he really should. He caught his own gaze in the mirror across the room; he was paler than normal, his eyes wide, but otherwise he looked collected. Calm. Not the Candor open book that everyone else seemed to have no problem being.

               Damn.

               His eyes followed her again, moving easily and quietly through the room as she arranged wires for the test, her gaze sliding from her work to him and back, never up to-

               "What is it with you Stiffs and mirrors? What does knowing what you look like have to do with being selfless? It doesn't automatically make you this selfish, horrible person."

               "We reject vanity," Natalie said as she leaned over him to press one of the wires to his temple and a second on to the base of his neck.

               "So you think I'm vain?"

               "I think the values of each faction are necessary for a functioning society."

               "That was not an answer to my question. You're avoiding it, which means I'm right. You think I'm vain because I'm Candor, that we're rude, selfish, and we don't filter what we say. You can say it, it's not like the kids at school don't. I've heard-" He cut off when she cupped the side of his face with her hand, in one moment being more gentle and mothering than his own had ever been.

               "It's alright to be nervous, everyone is."

               He wanted to tell her that he wasn't nervous, wasn't scared of doing the test. But the words stuck in his throat, the way they used to when he was a child and still afraid of what the adults would do if they caught him in a lie. There was something in her face, her eyes, that told him with absolute certainty that there was no way he could fool her. She pressed a hand to the centre of his chest and pushed him back so he was laying against the incline of the chair.

               "The test is designed to offer you a series of choices with the aim of ruling out factions until only one remains." He leaned his head to the side to watch her again; did she explain for everyone or just noticed that it would be calming for him? Maybe it was an Abnegation thing, knowing what other people need. "All you have to do is solve the problems in front of you, there's no wrong way of going about it."

               He swallowed hard and faced the ceiling again.

               "Here." A vial of clear liquid was passed in front of him and he clenched his fist tightly for a moment before taking it, hoping his hand wouldn't shake so badly that he would end up spilling it down his front. "Drink this and we can begin."

               "What is it?"

               "It's a simulation serum, it will allow me to gage your responses to the test. That's all I can tell you," she said quickly, setting a hand on his shoulder when he opened his mouth to ask more questions. He nodded once and drank it back in one shot, wincing as the bitter liquid hit the back of his throat. "Try to relax the best you can."

               His head suddenly felt foggy, heavy, and the glass was taken from his hand a moment before his arm fell down to his side. His eyes slipped shut for a brief moment before he started himself awake again. One hand brushed across his face, rubbing his eyes, before he let it fall back to his side. Besides groggy, there was probably some kind of sedative in the serum, he didn't feel any different.

               "I don't think it's work-" The room was empty. No computer, no Natalie, only his own reflection staring back at him from the mirror on the wall.

               A test. To see how he reacted to things.

               He stood, dragging his gaze from his own eyes to look at the back wall, and was once again staring at a mirror. And the boy in the reflection smirked back at him. He was older, shoulders broader under a pure black suit, and looked certainly more confident than he felt. The image held out both his hands, an open wide gesture.

               "Choose," he heard his own voice say and his eyes flicked down to where the boy was pointing, at two tables set between them. On one was a knife, almost as long as his forearm with a hilt wrapped in dark leather, and on the other was thick slab of red meat. Choose? They were too different, obviously only one would be useful for what was coming.

               "What do I need them for?" The reflection's expression turned dark, hard, for a moment before his lips curled upwards again, into a cruel smile. Was that what he looked like to other people?

               "No. Choose one."

               "Fine." Anger shot through him and he stormed over to the table with the knife on it, fingers finding the hilt, before he found himself standing inches away from the mirror. "There, are you happy now?" His own laughter reached his ears, a mocking smile on his double's lips.

               "Are you? Are you happy with your choice?"

               A low growl filled the room, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and the reflection pointed over his shoulder, back into the room. Peter whirled around and, standing where the testing chair had been a moment before, was a black snarling dog, monstrously large, with its teeth bared to strike.

               The knife suddenly felt very heavy in his hand.

               That's what the meat would have been for, defend himself with the knife or distract it with the food. It lunged and the hand with the knife came up almost without thinking about it, striking it across the chest and spraying him with warm blood. It stained his white jacket red and the colour made his stomach turn.

               He blinked and the room disappeared, replaced by the blinding lights and bustling movement of a laboratory. An Erudite laboratory. He had never been in one before, never used one, but his class had taken a tour of the Erudite compound a few years ago, when they were learning about genetic engineering. But the figures in their pale blue lab coats weren't working, not like they had been that day, it was almost like they were in a panic.

               An alarm started blaring and it was a struggle not to cover his ears at the sound.

               A sickeningly sweet, cloying smell filled the air, the words 'containment breach' flashed across one of the computer screens up on the wall, and one of the smaller scientists collapsed to her knees in a coughing fit.

               "Fantastic," he said under his breath, through his own cough. He turned around again, facing back to where the testing room _should_ have been, only to find a wall of windows looking into the lab. And behind those windows were more Erudite, more people in blue, just watching them. Some of them held clipboards in their hands, taking notes, some held those digital pads that only the Erudite seemed to know how to work. All of them seemed interested in what was unfolding in the lab but not particularly concerned. And among that crowd-

               His double, again. Gone was the fitted black suit, replaced with a collared blue shirt, the first few buttons undone, faded blue jeans, and those stupid fake Erudite glasses. Peter was the one who laughed this time, even if it meant inhaling more of whatever was in the air, when a thought dawned on him.

               "You're not real. None of this is real. This is a test." Just a test, to see how he handled situations. Make a decision, solve the problem. Ignore everything the fake Peter did or said, it was just his brain choosing what would most easily distract him from the situation.

               "The experiment will end in three minutes, at which point you will all be dead. I suggest you find a way to open the door before your time runs out."

               The door? Which door? There were three. Two along the back wall, closest to large metal tanks he assumed contained the gas that was slowly filling the lab, and the other one was... On the same wall as the bank of windows.

               He looked around the at the people surrounding him, none of them seemed to be in any capacity to help him break the thing down, definitely on his own. The door was reinforced steel with a rubber seal, logical protection against whatever was being developed in the lab. And they keypad next to it? Right, like he could figure out Erudite tech.

               No, this wasn't real. This was a test.

               "My brain, my combination, right?" The cover to the keypad slid away and he took a moment to stare at the confusing mess of digital displays, numbered buttons, and what may have been a fingerprint scanner. Thinking the simulation would just take his combination was one thing but inputting one was another, Candor didn't use locks let alone ones that were this complicated.

               "Two minutes." Another cough wracked his chest, burning up his throat. His eyes watered, the gas was now thick enough he was starting to be able to see it. But it was as he was squinting at the keypad, blinking back the prick of tears, that he saw it. The fingerprints left from everyone coming and going into the lab.

               "Wipe your keypad off next time if you don't want your guinea pigs escaping." It took him two tries to get the right combination and the click of the lock was far more satisfying than he thought it would be. He glanced back at the huddled Erudite scientists. "Come on, everyone out."

               And he walked through the door.

               It was sunny, he was standing outside the testing facility, at the bus stop he would need to take to get back to Candor that afternoon. The bus was already waiting, idling by the curb, and sitting the back most seat with his head leaning against the window-

               Of course.

               The other Peter was wearing a Candor suit this time, it was the first thing he noticed when he ran onto the bus. A black jacket with a white collar, a white dress shirt, and a thin black tie pulled so tight he looked like he might choke if he moved the wrong way. The aisle between the seats was tight as he made his way down it; that man, the older him, he was the test. Had to be.

               He was halfway down the bus when someone caught his elbow.

               "Excuse me." He tried to pull his arm away but the man in the seat only held tighter. "Let me go."

               "Do you know this man?" The man tapped the front of the newspaper in his hands, to the picture on the front of a young bearded man. A criminal, a killer, or so the headline read. The bus started to move, pulled away from the centre, and he clutched the centre pole to keep upright. The man in the picture did look familiar, like he knew him well, and at the same time there was a feeling that he absolutely shouldn't admit to that. It was almost like- Like he knew he would be killed if he said he knew him.

               "No, I don't," he could blame the shake in his voice on the rumbling bus, the floor that jolted under his feet. The man in the seat twisted to look up at him, face lined with anger. Before he could say anything else, before the guilty twisting feeling in his stomach could get him to admit more than he wanted to, a hand bumped his on the pole and he didn't need to turn to know who it was. The man behind him leaned into him, close enough to whisper in his ear.

               "Liar."

               Candor. He wanted to be in Candor. And Candor told the truth. Even if it meant-

               "Yes, I do know him," he forced, past the sick wave of apprehension at the admission. Past the irrational fear that stabbed through him. Which was ridiculous because there wasn't any danger. This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real. This is a test. "What do you want to know?"

               He woke from the simulation with a gasp, adrenaline still coursing through him. Strong hands grabbed his arms and he heard himself gasp as he fought against them. "Shhh, it's alright Peter. Just take a deep breath. You're alright, you're not in any danger." A hand pressed into the centre of his chest, forcing him back into the chair.

               "What happened?" He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and forced a breath in through his nose.

               "You had a panic attack." He sat up to look at her, she had moved back to stand in front of the computer terminal, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind her. If possible he looked even paler than he had at the beginning of the test, his dark hair stuck to flushed skin. "In the final scenario you attempted to take conflicting courses of action, what you're feeling now is the simulation's response to that. Though, yours was a stronger than average reaction."

               Heart pounding, mind racing, hands shaking against his sides. All as a punishment for lying? Candor leadership should take note.

               Natalie was typing furiously at her computer, the click of the keys the only sound in the room for a few moments, before she moved to stand in front of him and removed the wires from his skin. He looked up into her face, there was a crease to her brow that wasn't there before the test, a tightness to the corners of her mouth.

               "What's wrong?" He swung his legs over the side of the chair to her was facing her at the computer. "Is there something wrong with my test?" More silence, more adrenaline, that sick feeling in his gut. "Natalie? What was my test result?"

               A long pause.

               "Candor." At the end of the word her voice went up, a higher pitch, and though she was looking at him when she said it she wouldn't meet his eyes.

               "You're lying." The accusation came out harsh and angry and his heart pounded in his ears. "Why are you lying to me?"

               "Tomorrow, at the ceremony, are you going to choose Candor?" His fist clenched at his side, frustration making his head spin.

               "This test was supposed to tell me what to choose, what faction I belong in, how can I answer that question if you won't tell me my results?" She was lying when she said he belonged in Candor, he couldn't go home, didn't belong there. "What did my test say?"

               "Peter, look at me." His eyes had slipped to the floor without him really noticing and he snapped his gaze back up to her face. She looked worried, really worried now, almost... Afraid. "If I tell you your results you cannot go back to Candor tomorrow, do you understand? The last stage of initiation is-"

               "Going under truth serum, I know. I've taken it before. It's not that terrible." Lie, that had been the most painful half hour of his life. "So what if they ask me my results? If I prove myself they're not going to care if I tested for a different faction. Tell me, I need to know. And you don't have the right to keep it from me."

               "You tested for Candor." She grabbed his chin and forced him to keep her gaze when he went to roll his eyes and look away. "And Dauntless," her voice took on a steely calm. "And Erudite."

               "What?" It was like the floor had been knocked from under him and for a moment he was sure it was only Natalie's hand on his arm that was keeping him upright. "How do you test for three factions? How is that even possible?"

               "It's rare but does happen. We call it Divergent," she was speaking so quietly and quickly he had to lean in to hear her. "If you choose to go back to Candor they will ask you how your test went. At the end of your initiation they will force that truth from you and when you tell them they will kill you. Many of the leaders see Divergence as dangerous because-"

               "We don't fit."

               "They can't control you." She perched on the chair beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched when he moved but not close enough that their legs made contact. "And that scares them."

               "I have to transfer, defect." Candor, Erudite, or Dauntless. An equal aptitude for three different factions. Even eliminating Candor, it still left him with a decision to make. How- "If you were me, if you were in my place, what would you pick?"

               The silence between them stretched for several moments and he held her gaze the whole time.

               "Abnegation." Maybe it was rude to laugh but he did, a short sharp bark at first but it dissolved quickly into an ugly full laugh he had to clap a hand over his mouth to stop. He sounded hysterical, even to his own ears, and maybe he was.

               "Right. I'm no Stiff."

               "I know that, I watched you walk out of a laboratory without stopping to make sure the other scientists made it out with you." She didn't sound disapproving, somehow, more like she expected his response before he gave it. "I did not mean to say I thought you would make a good Abnegation, it's not for everyone. I only meant that it is the safest place for someone who is Divergent. Come, we've spent too much time as it is, you need to go. Before the supervisor comes to see what's taking so long. Go straight home, don't talk to anyone."

               "What do I say when my parents ask why I came home early?"

               "Just tell them that serum made you sick and I sent you home early."

               "I can't lie to them, they'll know." She took him by the elbow and pulled him towards a back door he hadn't noticed before.

               "It's not a lie," her voice was so calm and even that he almost believed her. "Tomorrow, at the ceremony, you will have to trust yourself. Good luck."

               And the door closed between them.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

               "So what was your test result?" Verena had taken to asking the question quickly and whenever she thought he'd least expect it; standard interrogation technique to make him answer automatically before he had a chance to process the question and put his guard up.

               Thankfully, she'd been trying that one for years and he was used to it by now.

               "Vreni, you know I can't tell you that." The use of her old childhood nickname usually got her to fold pretty quickly but not this time. "We're not allowed to share our results."

               "Yeah, I know that's what they say, but we're Candor. We tell each other everything, remember?" She wound an arm around his and he pulled her close as they walked down the street towards the Hub.

               "Not this time. You're just going to have to wonder."

               "That's not fair, Peter. I'll told you my results when I took the test. The moment I got home." But her results had been Candor, through and through. There was no fear in sharing hers, no twisting knot in her stomach whenever she thought about it, no uncertainty.

               "Shouldn't you be at work?"

               "No, I took the day off to come see your ceremony. Trying to get rid of me so you don't have to tell me?" He stayed silent, her head fell onto his shoulder and he squeezed her hand. "Are you excited to choose? Be a grown man?"

               Choosing. Every step brought them closer to the Hub, closer to the ceremony. And he still hadn't made his decision. Candor, Erudite, Dauntless. Step, step, step. Sixteen years old, make the biggest decision of your life. A decision that, according to Natalie Prior, would decide whether he lived or died.

               No pressure.

               Who would he be?

               The man on the bus? In black and white, tight and stiff. Choking down the biggest lie he could possibly imagine, constantly on edge and alert against discovery. The job, the life, he had always wanted.

               The man in the lab? Surrounded by glass and tests and _blue_. Could he really see himself there, head of his own lab, sorting through facts and figures and data all day. Figuring out what made him this way.

               The man in the mirror? Wearing Dauntless black and blood red. Wild, free, and if he did well, in a place of leadership over the faction. Taught to fight and be strong.

               Divergent.

               "Peter?"

               _If I look at her, she'll know what I'm about to do._

               He forced a smile to his lips and nodded, blindly hoping she would believe it or was at least not looking at him too closely for his answer. He stared straight ahead, at the bright black glass of the Hub looming before them.

               "Verena, your brother has a lot on his mind today, he has a big decision to make." Their parents were walking a few steps behind them and he felt his father place a hand on his shoulder. "Let him think."

               "What's there to think about? There's only one choice to make." The hand in his squeezed in what he assumed was supposed to be reassurance. They were on the steps of the Hub now, then standing in line at the elevators, and some sort of eerie calm settled over him. There was nothing that he could say or do that would get him out of this decision, no lie he could tell to get out of trouble this time.

               No going back.

               He sat in the comforting sea of black and white, debate and bustle around him creating a distracting white noise. To his left were the Dauntless, louder still than his own faction, and to the right was Erudite, in a mass of quiet discussion and blue. Could he be loud and reckless or quiet and studious?

               Some Abnegation were filing in, their long grey clothes making them stand out more than they intended, and among them, immediately recognisable despite the plain clothing and hair, was Natalie Prior. She was standing with a man and two teenage children, his age if they were choosing today. He looked away quickly, before she looked up and caught him staring, and chose to stare instead at the five bowls on stage.

               Far right, Candor. Clean cut transparent glass.

               Next, Amity. No, not Amity, liars all of them, would say anything just to keep the peace. He would rather die in Candor then set foot in Amity.

               The centre, Erudite. Clear, still water.

               Next, Abnegation. Safety, security, but no. He wasn't a Stiff. That would never work. Not matter what Natalie had said.

               Far left, Dauntless. Smoke from the burning coals rising from the bowl.

               Verena's hand was still in his, their fingers laced together. She was the perfect Candor, had aced her initiation and was now working under Jack Kang himself. On track to lead her own firm in a few years time. _Why can't you be more like your sister?_ He was trying, had always tried. It was just so effortless for her, to sit here in her pressed black and white dress, easy and comfortable and honest.

               He leaned back in the chair, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment.

               Abnegation was hosting the ceremony this year, it was Marcus Eaton who walked the length of the stage to give the choosing speech. Marcus Eaton, his son had defected from Abnegation two years ago. All the papers had said it was because he was being abused, fled to another faction just to get away from his father, but they were Erudite reporters and couldn't be trusted.

               They would be called in reverse alphabetical order, always were, which would make him one of the last to choose. Plenty of time to make the decision and at the same time nowhere near enough. If he had a thousand years it still wouldn't be enough time.

               Candor. Erudite. Dauntless.

               An Erudite boy was called first. A boy who didn't hesitate to pick up the knife or hold his hand over the bowl of water. Peter bit his lip and felt the bile rise into his throat. Next a girl from Amity, smiling airily as she reached for the knife, blood on soil.

               Morgan Stokes was the first Candor to choose. Peter knew him, in passing, they had been in math together last year. He watched Morgan cross over the stage, take the knife in his hand, walk to the right to where the bowl of glass sat, and he- Amity.

               Traitor.

               The cheers from the red and yellow crowd as Morgan joined them were not enough to drown out the sound Mrs. Stokes makes as she started to cry or the muttering outrage that began to rise around her. And it certainly did not hide the disgusted snort Verena made or his father's sigh. His hands tightened almost involuntarily, one around the armrest of his chair and the other became what was probably a very painful grip on his sister's hand.

               It will be her hatred that will hurt the most.

               More names were called, more choices. They say five percent of children transfer factions and each time, each person who went to sit with a faction that wasn't their own, caused the tension in the room tighten. A girl from Abnegation chose Candor and took Morgan's seat. Two more transfers out of Candor, one of them Drew and the other Christina, both to Dauntless.

               Then Marcus was saying Prior. Caleb Prior. Then Beatrice Prior. The two children that had come in with Natalie and her husband. Both transferred, him to Erudite and her to Dauntless. A Stiff, in Dauntless, what was she thinking?

               If five percent of those choosing transfer, they must be at that by now, weren't they? When Al and then Molly also switch, Dauntless, then a boy from Amity and a girl from Erudite who chose Candor. Whose grip was strongest now, his or Verena's? It was hard to tell now with his fingers going numb in her grip but he didn't need to look at her to know how angry she was.

               "Peter Hayes."

               Where was that calm he'd felt walking in? Gone, along with all the feeling in his legs. Especially when Verena squeezed his hand as he rose, the smile she gave him. Certain and confident and oh how she would hate him.

               Don't look at them, don't look anywhere but straight ahead. He walked down the steps between Candor and Dauntless, not looking at any of his friends who now sat divided on either side of the aisle. He didn't look at Marcus when he passed the man to step up to the table in the centre of the stage.

               He took the knife, not the same one from his test but heavy in his hand all the same, and barely felt the cut he made across his left palm. Breath in, breath out. Blood pooled in his cupped hand and he stood, stock still, staring at the five bowls. It filled his palm faster than he'd expected, cut too deep, and he resisted the urge to put his right hand under it to catch any spill. Accidentally choosing the wrong faction, it was part of the horror stories parents told their children.

               Candor. Erudite. Dauntless.

               Stupid fucking traitor brain. Was it easy, for everyone else? Easy to leave everything and everyone you knew behind? Easy to stay? To know for sure where they belonged?

               Don't shake, don't let it show.

               He stood several steps away from the bowls, dead centre in front of the one filled with rusty pink water. Three steps in any direction would make his choice. Go right, bloodstained glass. Go straight, red water. Go left, the smell of burnt blood.

               Honest. Clever. Brave.

               Divergent.

               Don't think, react. Trust. To trust himself, that's what Natalie had said.

               Go right, pick Candor, go home, try to forget about the test, about being some freak with the brain that _just didn't fit_. Convince himself he's not lying about it.

               His head spun, this wasn't like him. He wasn't the guy who got nervous or jumpy or... Not until yesterday. Not until being told that faction leadership might want him dead. That choosing wrong today didn't just mean ending up in a faction where he didn't belong, it meant being killed.

               And that scared him more than he ever thought possible.

               In Candor the truth would come out, sooner or later, even if he made it through initiation. Being Divergent hadn't helped him resist the truth serum the last time. And Erudite, they were clever, probably ran tests on each other _for fun_. Who's to say they won't find out about him too?

               This wasn't a choice. This was whatever it took to survive.

               Deep breath in, then out. Don't turn around, don't look back. Three steps to his left, the longest of his life, but his hand didn't shake when he held it out, not even when he heard his blood sizzle as it hit the coals.

               "Dauntless."

               The calm returned, a stillness that steadied his legs on his way to the Dauntless section, allowed him to hear the sound of their cheers, their welcome, feel the warmth of their hands on his back as he was ushered into the seat beside Molly who threw an arm around his shoulders. She was grinning and this time he couldn't quite force a smile to match it. His fingers traced the bandage on his hand he didn't remember receiving or even putting on. Drew was behind him, reached around him to thump a hand on his chest. They were so excited, happy, pleased with their choice.

               Their tests must have said Dauntless. Lucky them.

               The Abnegation girl, Beatrice, was sitting a row in front of him and a couple seats to his left. She was staring at her knees, did she regret her choice to defect? To never see her family again? But then, in a moment, she straightened to stare straight ahead, her face as calm and blank as the grey stones in the Abnegation bowl. If she could do it, move on, so could he.

               Something, some force, something that clearly wanted to punish him more, dragged his eyes back up to the Candor section, halfway up the stands to where his family sat. His mother, tearful face hidden in the crook of his father's neck, his head tilted towards her, his lips moving in what looked like frantic, hushed whispers. But Verena... He met his sister's eyes and for one sickening moment he was sure his heart had stopped. She didn't look mad or disgusted, more... shocked. Shock and more than a little sadness.

               Her anger will come later, he thought. Right now his betrayal had taken her by such surprise that it would take her a while to catch up. It would come, maybe at dinner tonight or tomorrow morning when the new initiates are presented to the faction before their initiation began.

               He was the one to look away.

               Dauntless exit first when the ceremony closes and they were the farthest from the door, it meant a long walk past the other factions. Past Candor, where, just as they're about to pass by, he took the chance to glance back up at his family. At his parents whose shock, anger, and grief were clear to read. At Verena whose cheeks were streaked with fresh tears.

               Someone laughed from the front of the group and he was pulled along by Molly's hand on his wrist. She was on his left, wearing a grin from ear to ear as they left the hall, and there was a tall Erudite boy to his right. He took a deep breath, shook Molly's hand off, and turned towards the black clad backs in front of him. He was Dauntless now and Dauntless didn't look back.

               Then they're all running down the stairs and there was no more room for thinking. Focus on running, keeping his breathing even, being careful about where he was putting his feet. Breaking his neck on the Hub stairs would only end in death or being factionless and he wasn't sure which was worse. But the laughter around him, the wooping cheers of the Dauntless, was more contagious than he thought it would be and where was a relief in the protesting burn in his legs.

               They hit the streets and didn't stop, spilling out onto the pavement and blocking traffic. They drew stares from the pedestrians taking the sidewalk. The Dauntless born boy in front of him nearly ran over a Candor man on his way to lunch; a man that Peter recognised, even in the few short seconds he had to look at him. The man was friends with his parents and lived a few apartments down in the same building. The look he got was scathing and expected.

               "Peter?"

               He didn't stop.

               His black jacket was too tight, around his shoulders and chest as they heaved with breath over the exertion of the run. His hand found the knot of the tie resting at the base of his throat, tugging on it to loosen it, letting it run through his fingers and to the ground. The button keeping the jacket tight across his chest ripped as he tried to open it.

               In a few hours he'd have all new clothes anyway.

               He was breathing hard when they made it to the tracks and he ended up between Molly and Al as they spread out into a line. The blare of the train horn was loud in his ears and he caught the apprehensive look pass across the faces of some of the other transfers. Who would pick Dauntless and not know that they travel by train?

               The Dauntless jump in with a practiced ease, his own was significantly less than graceful. His knee hit the bottom of the door, pain radiating down to his foot, and he landed heavily on the heels of his hands but solidly in the car. Which was more than he could say for a couple other initiates, who scrambled for purchase on the slippery metal floor. He caught Molly's elbow when she nearly landed on top of him and she was laughing too hard to stand for a moment.

               He pulled away from her, looked up just in time to see Al clamour into the car beside them, and stood himself. He tested his weight on the injured knee, it would sting for a while but wouldn't stop him from running. It had barely ripped the knee of his slacks. He went back to the train door to look out, wanting to see the city unfold when they climbed higher. All the initiates had made it onto the train, well, all except one.

               There was a girl in a gray dress still running along the tracks, barely keeping up with the final car. Natalie's daughter, Beatrice.

               If she couldn't even make it onto the train then her choice of faction had been a big mistake. An Abnegation in Dauntless, she'd never make it far. It would be kinder to leave her on the tracks, let her be factionless now instead of failing out halfway through initiation. It would only get harder from here.

               He threw his hand out and met her blue-green eyes when she looked up at him, surprised. But she took his hand and she was light enough that he could easily haul her inside the car. She collapsed against the wall, breathing hard but still standing.

               "Thanks," she gasped, eyes finding his face again. She was pretty, in that same quiet way her mother was. Helping her onto the train, it wasn't much to repay what Natalie had done for him but it felt like a start. He nodded once before turning half away, planning on rejoining the rest of the Can- Former Candor.

               "And don't you forget it Stiff."


End file.
